You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
"Me?" I ask, her statement having left me intrigued. I glance at the old woman, then back outside the tent. "Well, if you want to hear it I suppose I'm in no hurry."
I sit down on the cushion my eyes wash over the tent. "I'm a Highlander, raised in the cold mountains of Reinmar. My family was Hanseti, and I suppose that makes me the same. I do not know much of my peoples past however. My parents were scattered from their home near Castle Greywynn when they were young, before I was in this world. When I was a child, of just 8 years, our home was raided by a traveling gang. When they I was told too flee into the night, and I did, my parents falling to the blades of their attackers so I could live. I was lost in the forest for days, and was near my own death when I stumbled into a small frontier town. I was brought to a small orphanage by the locals, and there I was raised until I ran away at 15. In a land of trappers and frontiersman, I grew up tough and learned to live off the land. Over the years I have given my life to travel, drifting through the towns of my homeland.
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